


Lions, Tigers and Bears?

by Jennybel75



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Case Fic, Gen, M/M, slashy if you use your goggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 05:02:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/833050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennybel75/pseuds/Jennybel75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It was one of the oddest looking corpses John had seen, and he prided himself on recognising many rare and unusual forms of death."</p><p>In which there are odd corpses, dangerous animals and John being a conductor of light, as usual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lions, Tigers and Bears?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my lovely betas Cousin Cecily, Snogandgrope and Stephrc79.

It was one of the oddest looking corpses John had seen, and he prided himself on recognising many rare and unusual forms of death.

He bent closer, poking with a swab at the rips — tears? — in the torso of the female victim. It looked as if they had been made by something raking across her stomach, most likely an animal. Though they didn’t look anything like the claw marks they’d come across last year in a case involving blood diamonds, a warlord and a very ex-big cat fancier. 

Settling back on his heels, John looked over to where Sherlock was expounding to the population at large, hand waving towards the forensics team as he turned sharply and fixed them with an intense look. “And I suppose you’re going to tell me that a lion just happened to be roaming the grounds when the victim stumbled upon it by accident?” He snuck a glance over at John, a slight smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth.

“Shall I tell you exactly why you’re all idiots alphabetically or categorically?” With that Sherlock was off again, a localised whirlwind of scorn and deduction.

John sighed as he got to his feet and made his way over to where Greg was talking to the husband of the victim, thankfully out of sight of the body.

“I just... I was just coming back from the stables, the horses you know, at this time of year.” He looked at Greg as if for confirmation, “Anyway, I, um, came around the side of the pens and saw the gate was open and the chickens pecking at something. It was dusk so I couldn’t really see what it was until I got closer.” With that the man broke down again into a torrent of sobs and half garbled words.

Greg handed him a tissue from the seemingly endless supply he carried to crime scenes. John had asked him about it once, after Sherlock had sneered at Greg for getting distracted from an interrogation. The explanation Greg gave made perfect sense to John, not only was it a simple kindness, but an outcome of that kindness was that people trusted the giver more, felt as though they were on their side. Thus they were more likely to be cooperative. John had tried to explain it to Sherlock, thinking that it might be something Sherlock could add to his arsenal, but had been favoured with a look that seemed to say “What is this emotion you humans call compassion?”

Shaking his head, John turned back to Greg who was now asking about the type of livestock the man and his wife kept. It all sounded pretty standard, mostly horses, with a few chickens and a house cow. The husband blew his nose and took a breath before continuing, “There was also a cassowary, in with the chickens. Susan’s brother, he’s off looking after their Mum and asked us to mind it for him. He’s trying to sell it as his wife’s become terrified of the thing. No idea where it is now though.”

At that John’s memory tickled him. A few months ago, when Sherlock had been out and about doing lord knows what, John had been channel surfing and happened across a BBC documentary on killer animals of Australia. He’d scoffed at the beat up the program gave to most of the animals it covered, but there had been some video of a cassowary attacking a board its handler was holding up. The bird was able to kick quite high and had 12 cm claws on each of its feet. The narrator had stated with glee that there were cases on record of it actually disembowelling people.

Catching Greg’s eye John tilted his head in the direction that Sherlock had taken off in. Greg gave an acknowledging nod and John made his way over to where Sherlock was crouching down inside the chicken pen, muttering to himself.

“Far too big for chicken prints, but a bird certainly, not an ostrich, too small for that. Emu? No.”

“Cassowary” John said helpfully, taking a quick step back as Sherlock rose suddenly, towering over him.

“It was in with the chickens. Mr Cole and his wife were looking after it for her brother.” John said pointing over at where Greg was leading Mr Cole into the house. “They can be right vicious bastards too if provoked, saw a program on the BBC about them. Maybe she pissed it off somehow?”

Sherlock peered at him intently for a moment before stalking off towards the house in pursuit of Greg.

“Oi, Sherlock, wait up you great git”, John called racing after his rapidly retreating back. “So you know what happened then, yeah? It was the cassowary?” He asked as he caught up.

“Of course it was the cassowary John.” Sherlock replied as they entered the house, “the more interesting question is why it attacked her.” He walked through the doorway into the lounge, eyes immediately landing on Mr Cole who was sitting on the edge of an armchair, cup of tea in hand.

“Your brother-in-law is in quite deep financial trouble, isn’t he Mr Cole?” Sherlock started pacing the room, barely pausing at the soft “Yes” he got in response.

“Yes and your mother-in-law is wealthy, well, wealthy in that she owns a large estate in Scotland. Once she dies and the property is sold I anticipate he and your wife would come into several million pounds each. Correct”?

“That’s right. The property’s been in the family for ages but neither Susan nor Ron want to take it over. They were going to sell it and split the proceeds. My Susan is,” here Mr Cole sniffed and corrected himself, “was going to put her half in trust for our grandkids. We want to make sure they have a good start in life.”

Sherlock nodded as he continued pacing, stopping in front of Greg as he said “you’ll want to go and arrest the sister-in-law now, Lestrade.”

Mr Cole’s teacup clattered against the saucer, “Gillian? But she couldn’t have done that to Susan.”

“Not directly, Mr Cole, no, but she did incite the cassowary to violence just before your wife was heading out to put the chickens away for the evening.” Sherlock pivoted and turned his intense gaze on the stricken man. “She knew your routine, that you would be out with the horses and that your wife always dealt with the chickens at that particular time of day. She also knew how vicious cassowaries could be, no doubt having seen the same documentary as John here.”

John started at the mention of his name, having been thoroughly caught up in the spectacle that was Sherlock in full deductive flight. He looked at Sherlock whose eyes were sparkling and cheeks slightly coloured from the warmth inside the house. He always seemed so alive and full of fire when he was in the throes of solving a case. Sherlock caught his eye briefly before he carried on.

“Knowing this Gillian decided to solve the issue of the split inheritance, and thus their dire financial straits. There was a rake on the ground outside the fence, and I think you’ll find she called the bird over and started tormenting it with the rake just before your wife was due out. Hence your wife unknowingly walked into a pen with a very angry and aggressive creature. She never stood a chance.”

Sherlock turned to face Greg, “I think you’ll find Gillian’s fingerprints on the rake handle and documents already drawn up for the sale of her mother-in-law’s property at their house. That should be enough for an arrest don’t you think?”

Greg nodded and took out his mobile to call in for a search warrant for the sister-in-law’s house. As he put the phone to his ear he nodded his thanks at Sherlock and John, saying “Cassowaries, what the hell will they come up with next, eh?”

Pulling his gloves back on Sherlock walked towards the front door, holding it open for John as they walked through. “How do you feel about a late dinner John? I know a little Turkish place which will still be open by the time we get back to London.”

John’s stomach growled at the suggestion and he smiled up at Sherlock, “Sounds great, just promise me that there’ll be no chicken. I don’t think I can face poultry right now.”

An answering grin split Sherlock’s face as they walked on and he agreed, “Absolutely no chicken at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away someone prompted Kryptaria to write a fic with a rampaging emu. She asked me to have a go and this is the result. The emu tranformed into a cassowary as they're much more deadly. Have a look at the links below for a bit more info about them:
> 
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cassowary
> 
> http://www.environmentalgraffiti.com/featured/cassowary-terryfying-bird-earth/10022


End file.
